


On the 13th day of Christmas

by LunarCallisto



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, Dark Comedy, Demons, Duet, Gen, Hell, Pranks, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarCallisto/pseuds/LunarCallisto
Summary: Alastor chuckled, and a laugh track sound erupted, “Well, my dear, it makes sense nobody bothers with holidays down here. Can’t have Christmas without ‘Christ’, now can we?”***There's no such thing as Christmas in Hell... but that doesn't stop these group of sinners from celebrating it!
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor/Charlie Magne, Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 3
Kudos: 110





	On the 13th day of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> one belated hazbin holiday fic. Happy holidays!/ New year!

The pine tree stood fifteen off the ground level of the hotel—practically scraping the roof of the second level floor. The color of the tree wasn’t the fern green it should be, but rather a blood red. Redder than the Radio Demon’s attire—and that goes without saying—It’s honestly far too much red, even for _his_ taste.

And he was the one who magically created it.

The damned tree was an eyesore. Yet the princess was jubilant, bouncing with glee as she and that gloomy gal pal of hers brought out the decorations. The Radio Demon cocked an eyebrow as they made their way pass him—two boxes of decorations would be not enough to cover this behemoth.

“Oh—I’m so excited! I want to be the one to put the star on top!” Charlie chirped, dropping the box at the base of the tree. She bent down to pick up a little pentagram charm from within, it was obviously handmade, by the princess no less—judging from the amount of pink and gold glitter.

“Might want to get a ladder… Maybe have Razzle or Dazzle do it since they can fly?” Vaggie suggested, craning her neck to take in the looming monster of a pine tree.

Charlie put a hand to her chin in thought. “I can probably reach the top from the second floor.”

“Perhaps my good ol’ friend Husker here can help?” Alastor leaned against the bar, nudging the winged-cat demon who was currently passed out on the counter with his mic.

Husk stirred, _“Nngh, Fug’off…”_

Charlie couldn’t help but make cooing noises as Husk curled in on himself much like an adorable living house cat atop the counter. She stopped when he peeled open one red-veined eye to glare at her.

The princess huffed, putting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the lounge. “Anybody seen Angel by the way? Having his extra arms around would definitely help with decorating.”

Vaggie scoffed, unfurling a coil of pentagram shaped Christmas lights, “Don’t count on it. He snuck out before everyone woke up, as usual. _Bruto_.” Vaggie shook her head, “I’m assuming he’s either pimping himself out to another sleazebag or making jack-off videos.”

“Ah, welp.” Charlie dropped her arms, she turned to the Radio Demon who had been about ready to pour a pitcher of water he produced from thin air on Husk— “Hey Al, you’ll help right?”

The pitcher of water vanished from his hands as quickly as it came, he swiveled to the Princess grinning, “Why, of course, Dear!”

Vaggie groaned, obviously for her distaste of him. Not that he cared, it was quite fun to rile up the bear cat of a demoness by just being near her or coddling the princess. Which was what he decided he was going to do. Alastor plucked the sparkly poorly made pentagram from Charlie’s fingers, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he did.

Vaggie instantly glared daggers at him—to which he only flashed his pointed teeth at her. His sinister shadow that followed in his footsteps, materialized behind him, taking the little star from Alastors hands—than slithering in on Vaggie to yank the lights she was holding from her grasp and then flew up the tree before she could strike the damn thing, “Hey you—!” The demoness bellowed a string of curses in Spanish that would probably make his mother blush.

Alastor’s shadow had circled the tree a dozen times until it reached the very top— as it did, it unfurled the lights quickly, wrapping it around the tree at top speed. It gave Alastor a thumbs up with a ghastly crooked grin as it hovered above. And the Radio Demon moved away from the princess to plug in the wire to the socket at the back of the tree.

Immediately the entire ground floor was bathed in iridescent pink and red hues. The shadow daintily placed the Princess’s haphazardly made star at the very tip top of the tree, the slight weight of it made the tip slouch over. But that didn’t stop Charlie from clasping her hands together, gazing at the glowing monstrous red tree in awe.

She failed to notice how Alastor’s shadow leered at Vaggie from the top of the tree, who only growled in response. Oh—how the Radio Demon and his fiends loved to torment her!

The princess bounced excitedly, “Al—you’re awesome!”

Alastor boredly examined his claws with a smarmy smirk, “I know.”

“This looks amazing!”

_“I know.”_

Charlie turned to him than with stars in her big doe eyes, “Thank you again for this tree! Usually I try to go out and find my own, but hardly anyone celebrates Christmas in Hell. I always come back with dead branches.”

Alastor chuckled, and a laugh track sound erupted, “Well, my dear, it makes sense nobody bothers with holidays down here. Can’t have Christmas without ‘Christ’, now can we?”

Charlie smiled sheepishly, “I guess so, but mainly I like celebrating Christmas for the aesthetic.” She turned to the tree, throwing her arms out dramatically— “I mean c’mon, giving gifts to yours friends, receiving gifts in return? Hot cocoa on cold nights, Christmas cookies, eggnog!”

Vaggie—who had been flipping the bird at Alastor’s shadow prior—came to Charlie’s side to tug at the princess’s white turtle neck sweater that depicted a crude image of Rudolph the Red nose Reindeer, “Don’t forget the ugly Christmas sweaters.”

Charlie giggled, tapping Vaggie’s nose, “That too!”

“What about Santa Claus?” Alastor slithered in between the two girls, drawing them both close with his long arms. Vaggie growled and wretched herself free from his hold, while Charlie only gasped.

“Yes! Santa… Though I don’t think he’d ever visit Hell.” Charlie pondered seriously, “I’m pretty sure we’re all on his naughty list. And he’s supposed to be _the_ spirit of Christmas, or something, there’s no evil in him enough to send him to Hell.”

Alastor rubbed his chin in thought, his radio ambiance crackling, “Well—not unless Ol’ Saint Nick committed heinous crimes! Like luring children in with the promise of toys then stuffin’em into his bag and kidnapping them to be delivered to Mrs. Claus! _Who!_ _Would than bake those children into a delicious meat pie that they then would consume_ — ** _thus condemning his soul to the fieriest pits of hell like the jolly sinner he is! Ha ha ha!_ **

Alastor threw his head back, cackling. Not noticing the Princess had taken several steps away from him, her eyes wide with fear. He exhaled, switching back to his usual chipper tune and wiping an invisible tear from his eye— “But, that’s wishful thinking!”

Charlie blinked owlishly, “Right…”

Vaggie who had watched the Radio Demon being creepy as per usual with a spear in hand started sniffing the air suddenly. She wrinkled her nose, “Ugh does anybody smell something burning?”

Alastor waved a hand, “It’s hell sweetheart, everything’s burnin’.”

Vaggie clutched her spear in a death grip, “You know what I mean, _cabronhijode_ —”

_“Who wants Christmas cookies!?”_

All three demons turned to the tiny cheerful voice, that was bounding down the stairs with a smoking tray in hand. The tray looked to be the object that spoke considering it was covering the little one-eyed demoness that held it above her head.

“Niffty?” Charlie cocked her head, trying to get a better look at the tiny demoness.

“I made Christmas themed cookies for everyone!” The tray piped.

“Er… _Those_ are cookies?” Charlie blew at the smoke to get a better look at said cookies. That didn’t resemble cookies at all—but rather a tough tar like substance stuck to the tray.

“Yup yup!” Niffty piped, “They’re a little on the crispy side, but who doesn’t like crispy cookies? Look here, see?” Niffty lowered the tray so she could point out each ‘cookie’.

“There’s Santa,” she pointed to a burnt splotch, “that’s Rudolph, like on your pullover!” She pointed to a curvy black charcoal-like crisp, “ _a-n-n-d_ , there’s an elf, there’s another elf oh— _whatamIdoing_ , here try one for yourself!”

Charlie immediately threw her hands up, “I’ll pass! I—uh ate already.”

“Me too.” Vaggie made a face.

“Alastor?” Niffty offered the tray to the Radio Demon who gave her a gentle smile. “Niffty, Darlin’. You know I’m not fond of sweets.”

Niffty lowered the tray, “Oh… Right.”

“But!” The Radio Demon flicked a clawed finger in the air, “I do believe Husker would love to try those cookies—why he just _loves_ sugary sweets!”

Niffty cocked her head. “He does?”

“Of course! Ain’t that right Husk?” Alastor gestured to the cat demon who had once again sprawled over the bar counter, Husk snored loudly in response. The Radio Demon’s grin widened, “See?”

Alastor summoned his stand mic, using it to lean on. “Hm, ya’might have to feed him though. Poor fella’ is fried from pig swill!”

“Aw, gee Husk!” Niffty grasped her tray and at the speed of lightning, zoomed over to the cat demon, hopping onto one of the stools. She placed the tray right above the sleeping demon’s wide opened mouth— “I hope you eat them all than! I didn’t slave in that kitchen for nothing you know!”

Niffty tipped the tray and scrapped the blackened chunks right into Husk’s awaiting mouth—not a second later loud hacking and wheezing was heard along with a jumble of curses.

“THE FUCK, AUGH—” Husk bolted upright, turning his head sideways to cough up whatever it was that had crawled into his throat. Alastor who had been standing by his side vanished the moment he started throwing up blackened chunks—which all than splattered onto the princess who had walked behind the Radio Demon to tell him something.

“Oh, _gross_!” Charlie grimaced, wiping black gunk from her face with her sweater sleeve.

“WHAT—” Husk was still coughing, he bent down to grab the forgotten bottle of whiskey by his side, taking a big swig, before tossing the bottle over the counter. A loud glass shattering noise was heard, but nobody cared for that now. “WHAT THE FUCK IS YER’ PROBLEM?!”

He pointed a claw to Niffty who was the only one with a large suspicious tray behind her back. Niffty shrugged, “Well! Al did say you liked sugary stuff—and _well_ I did make sugar cookies! But nobody wanted to try them, so I thought you’d like to eat all of them since you like sweets so much!”

“I HATE SWEETS! GOD _FUCKIN’ DAMMIT_ —WHERE IS THAT RED ASSHOLE?! I know he’s behind this!”

The Radio Demon’s laughter could be heard from the walls very faintly.

* * *

The morning was eventful and so exciting! Alastor hoped every morning in Hell would be like this from now on. Every day in Hell for him _should_ be like this in fact.

The Radio Demon hummed delightfully as he strolled down the long winding hallways of the eighth floor—he did not book a room since his declaration of aiding the princess in this fun little project of hers. He didn’t feel the need to, because he hardly ever slept. Really, he just loved going for walks.

Tormenting the sinners of Hell. Making deals with the more naïve of them—hunting, cooking, dancing and singing! Putting on a show!

Ah yes—because the world was his stage! And the stage was a world of entertainment!

Alastor smiled, his lidded red eyes glowing. _Entertainment indeed._ Especially with Hell’s darling princess.

His ears quirked when he heard a distant humming, not of his own, but coming from within one of the many suites. And then that humming turned to faint singing.

_“I really can’t stay—I’ve got to go away…”_

He tilted his head much like a confused deer would, trying to find where the source of this melody was coming from.

_“This evening has been, so very nice…”_

As he approached the last door to a two-bed suite, the muffled singing grew less faint, and clearer.

_“My mother will start to worry…”_

He grinned maliciously.

_“And father will be pacing the floor…”_

Alastor easily slipped beneath the door in his corporal shadow form—the sound of rushing water met his ears, and the lovely solo melody was just beyond another closed door.

_“So really I’ve better scurry…”_

He twirled his stand mic, and a soft traditional tune began to drift into the room, in sync with her singing.

_“Maybe just a half drink more—”_

He placed his hand on the bathroom door.

_“The neighbors might think—”_

“Baby it’s bad out there…” He sang in his own voice softly.

_“Say what’s in this drink?”_

_"_ No cabs to be had out there…”

_“I wish I knew how!”_

“Your eyes are like starlight now—”

_“To break this spell!”_

Alastor snapped his fingers to the rhythm as he leaned against the door. “I’ll take your hat; your hair looks swell—”

_“I oughta’ say no, no, no—”_

“Mind if I move in closer—”

_“At least I’m gonna’ say that I tried—”_

“What’s the sense in hurting my pride?”

_“I really can’t stay—"_

“Ah, but it’s cold _outsi-i-ide!”_ Alastor threw his arms out, outdoing the female singer in vocal range. He loved a good duet.

Unfortunately, he had startled the singer who had unknowingly been roped into a duet. Not two seconds later the squeaking sound of the shower tap was heard followed by the wet slap of feet hitting tiles; and the rustling of a towel being hastily wrapped around a body. Alastor put his arms behind his back, waiting patiently by the side of the door.

The bathroom door cracked open, steam curled out in wisps, and the wet blond mane of Hell’s princess could be seen peeking out of it. When she saw nothing was out of the order, she hesitantly tiptoed out of the bathroom in her fluffy white towel. She could not have seen the Radio Demon who was awaiting her from behind the bathroom door with a sharp toothy grin, until he made himself known.

He stepped out in front of her. “Hello Charl—!”

“OH, MY F—”

The bathroom door slammed shut in his face, with the Princess yelling things from within like— _“GET OUT!”,_ and _“WHAT THE HELL ALASTOR?!”_ with a side of, _“YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!”_

Her screaming obviously had that fiery demoness beau of hers bursting through the suite door in no time with a spear in hand and a murderous glare—but by then the Radio Demon was already gone. And so was the music, but— _oh_ , was his Christmas spirit lifted.

**Author's Note:**

> the ending was inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5eWYMJhZko/) scene from the movie Elf lol.


End file.
